


in the beginning

by AkitaFallow



Series: Legend of the Dawn King [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, POV Outsider, Post-Chapter 14, Spoilers, or at least kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkitaFallow/pseuds/AkitaFallow
Summary: "When the time came to slay the Accursed, the Dawn King and his Crownsguard made their way back to where they’d started in the heart of the ruined Crown City. There, King Noctis battled the Accursed and his Starscourge, and with the magic of his ancestors he sealed it away, placing himself as the key to the lock on the Darkness. As long as he sits on the throne, the Scourge remains sealed, and all of Eos is safe from it."---The Starscourge can never be truly destroyed, only sealed. Noctis Lucis Caelum's life isn't sacrificed—instead, it isused, his lifeforce employed to hold the darkness at bay.The legend of the Dawn King, eternally pinned to his throne and kept alive by the magic of his ancestors, is born.





	in the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [this prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4113.html?thread=6151953) on the FFXV kinkmeme. Unedited, because I can't be bothered to do so, but hopefully coherent!
> 
> (Apparently outsider POV is my jam)
> 
> Title is subject to change because I honestly can't think of anything better right now because I've used up all my words

 

 

 

 

_[Lucian calendar, 32 A.D. (After Dark)]_

 

* * *

 

Helios was named after the light, like a lot of the children born in the years after the Starscourge stole the sun from the sky and created the Ten Years of Darkness. His mother was a little more literal than most, but something about his name apparently called to her.  
  
“Being both a flower and a sun is nothing to be ashamed of,” she said when he asked why one evening. “Both are things we certainly need more of in this world, just like you.” She tapped his tiny nose with a finger.  
  
He didn’t remember the Dark, of course—he wasn’t even a thought in his parents’ minds by the time it cleared. But he knew the legends.  
  
“The Dawn King,” the lore master said during his lessons. “He and his three trusted Crownsguard traveled the land for long days after the Fall of Insomnia to Niflheim. They fought back the darkness day by day, valiantly going where few had courage to go, collecting the Royal Arms of the Kings of Old and awakening the Six themselves. And when the time came to slay the Accursed, they made their way back to where they’d started in the heart of the ruined Crown City. There, King Noctis battled the Accursed and his Starscourge, and with the magic of his ancestors he sealed it away, placing himself as the key to the lock on the Darkness. As long as he sits on the throne, the Scourge remains sealed, and all of Eos is safe from it.”  
  
(“It’s all a bunch of over-dramatized romanticism,” his uncle said once when he recounted the story after a lesson. “Things like that are never as pure as the stories say they are. There’s always dick jokes and getting caught in the rain and thinking you’re gonna die every second day. Not even kings are immune to that on adventures.”)

* * *

 

Helios hears Lord Argentum before he sees him.  
  
The man’s cane taps impatiently along the tiles of the hall as he comes around the corner. There’s a spring in his step that carries him faster than one would expect, and he stops in front of Helios in record time, councillor’s robes billowing around him in all their non-regulation sunshine-yellow glory. His long silver hair flaps lazily behind him, jingling with the bells he’s taken to wearing for the past few weeks.  
  
“Afternoon, Li,” he says cheerfully, his voice gravelly with age but somehow still obnoxiously cheerful.  
  
“Good afternoon, my Lord.”  
  
Argentum’s free hand swings up to pat him on the shoulder, dozens of thin metal bangles on his wrist clanking together at the motion. “Prompto,” he insists. “Prooooompto.”  
  
“My Lord,” Helios replies, face schooled and professional.  
  
Argentum sighs and taps his cane against the floor. “Too straight-laced for your own good,” he laments. “I’ll get you one day.” Then he waves a hand toward the door. “Well? Going to let me in, or leave an old man waiting in the hallway forever?”  
  
Helios turns and pulls the key ring from his belt, unlocking the door. Lord Argentum strides forward and pushes it open.  
  
The wash of torchlight spills into the hallway as the massive door slides open on oiled hinges. The throne room is impressive, no matter how many times you’ve seen it. Sconces adorn every wall, lit with a strange purple fire that never seems to go out, and they cast glittering traces of light along well-polished stones and windows. Late afternoon sunlight spills through the stained glass depicting the Kings of Old high on the walls, and the colours stream down to illuminate the steps leading up to the throne.  
  
Helios knows, academically, that at one point it was destroyed, but that was years before he was born. Now, the steps are sleek and even, and the throne…  
  
The sight hasn’t changed in the ten years he’s been routinely assigned to this post. It would be macabre if not for the hushed sort of stillness that surrounds the dais. Noctis Lucis Caelum sits regally on his throne, clad in the raiment of a true king, his hands placed carefully on both armrests and his feet flat. His head is leaned back into the cushion behind him. If he’s breathing, it’s impossible to tell. It almost looks like he’s resting his eyes after a long day of council meetings, except for the decorated blade stabbed through the centre of his chest.  
  
The Ring of the Lucii—last remnant of the magic of the Kings of Lucis—shines faintly purple on his finger, and there’s the glow of slowly-creeping red-orange cracks across his hand and up under the sleeves of his coat. It’s the only thing that ever changes.  
  
The hushed reverence is broken as Lord Argentum stumps his way swiftly toward the steps.  
  
“Give a man a hand here, kid,” he huffs at the base of them, holding out an impatient hand. Helios steps forward quickly and places a supportive hand on the man’s back, walking beside him up the stairs toward the silent King.

 

* * *

 

Like every fourth-year class in Insomnia, Helios’ was brought up to the Citadel early in the year. Lord Scientia, hair streaked regally with grey and dark glasses flashing in the torchlight, greeted them at the door. The lecture that followed them down the hall on the way to the throne room was more engrossing than every one the lore master had told combined.  
  
“Why is he always sleeping?” one small classmate asked, peering around the wall of Dawnguard who blocked off the other half of the throne room.  
  
“He isn’t,” Lord Scientia said, something flickering in his expression that was impossible to read. “You see…” He knelt and pointed past the hip of the nearest Dawnguard, pointing so unerringly toward the throne that you would never have guessed he couldn’t see it. “The Sword of the Father sustains his life, providing him with the longevity to continue to hold back the Starscourge for all of Lucis. If any were to remove it, he would die.” The small group of children gasped. “But it is not the Sword that grants him the _ability_ to do so. That lies solely with the Ring of the Lucii.” Lord Scientia lowered his hand. “The Ring uses the life granted by the Sword to contain the darkness, and King Noctis wields it constantly, at the price of himself. He isn’t sleeping—merely focusing power.”  
  
“Does it hurt?” Helios asked quietly.  
  
Lord Scientia paused. “I’m sure it does,” he said finally. “But, I believe, that is the true meaning of sacrifice.”  
  
“And he has you and the other Crownsguard to help, right?” someone else asked.  
  
“That as well,” Scientia nodded with a small smile. 

 

* * *

 

Lord Argentum eases himself down on the dais next to the King’s throne with a groan. “Gods, what I wouldn’t give to have my old bones back.” He looks up at Helios, eyes twinkling. “Hey Li, got any to spare for me?”  
  
“Can’t say I do, my Lord,” Helios replies.  
  
Argentum snorts. “Some good you are. Not like you have any use for them, watching this old lazy-bones every day.” He jerks his thumb at the King in an appallingly casual display that Lord Scientia probably would have reprimanded him for. “Your mom still just as happy about it as usual?”  
  
“She hasn’t changed her opinion, no.”  
  
He snorts. “Figures. Can’t say I blame her, though,” he says as he massages one knee with an arthritic hand. “Can’t be too glamourous, having a kid watching a catatonic king all the time.”  
  
Helios personally thinks it’s more a matter of too _much_ glamour, but he doesn’t say anything. After the fourth easily-apprehended spy trying to sneak into the throne room and his third commendation, she’d sort of resigned herself to it.  
  
“Well, let’s make it a bit more exciting again today, hm?” Argentum hummed, and laid a hand on the King’s bared wrist lying limp against the armrest.

 

* * *

 

When he was very young, he saw someone who wasn’t one of the Crownsguard touch the King once. Only once.  
  
The screaming as the man fizzled away into blue sparks and purple mist and then into nothing haunted his nightmares for weeks on end.  
  
It had been an accident, of course, but one that was never repeated.  
  
The Crownsguard were the only ones who could touch the King without consequence. Some said it was because of the profound bond the four were said to share—some believed it was simply the King’s will that no one but those closest to him come near.  
  
Others, like Helios, knew it was because of the magic.  
  
There were still pictures of the Crystal of Lucis in libraries across Insomnia, even though it had been destroyed long before they were rebuilt. It was the object that had channelled the magic of the Kings of Old, and the Dawn King and his Crownsguard were the last to ever wield it. It connected the four of them, and drew Lords Scientia, Amicitia, and Argentum into their king’s eternal struggle against the Starscourge.  
  
It aged them.  
  
The first time Helios saw Lord Argentum, his mother told him that he was thirty eight. He looked closer to fifty.  
  
“No help for it,” Lord Amicitia said in a short televised interview when Helios was in his teens. “We all said a long time ago that we’d follow him wherever he went, even into death.” He held his hands out to either side, the lines in his face deepening as he smiled. “This is just a little slower than we expected.”

 

* * *

 

There’s a crackle of blue energy in the air, and a soundless rush that makes his ears pop. Seconds later it’s gone, and the King opens his eyes.  
  
It’s eerie, even though he’s seen it so many times. The stories say they’ve been that way since he was born, that the magic that chose him changed him right from the start, but Helios knows better. The magic of the Ring of the Lucii shines through the Dawn King’s eyes, and even half-closed the purple glow sends a ghostly cast across his cheeks.  
  
“…Prom?”  
  
The King’s voice is not the deep, booming thing one would expect when hearing the legend. Instead it’s a quiet tenor, cracking with disuse and the pain of his constant battle against the Scourge. But there’s something that whispers behind it, like there are ghosts echoing his every word, slithering in and out of hearing.  
  
“Hey buddy,” Lord Argentum says, entirely immune to the atmosphere. “Sorry I’m late, old Councillor Trellus was going _on_ and _on_ about something or other to do with trade lines with Accordo.”  
  
The King’s brows are furrowed slightly. “Trellus…?”  
  
Argentum nods. “You know, that one they put in charge of trade agreements like three years ago who spends most of his time powdering the shit out of his nose and brushing his hair. He kept saying things like ‘there’s not enough _money_ , Prime Minister,’ and ‘we need to strengthen our _ties_ , Prime Minister,’ and honestly I was about ready to throw my water and start a food fight with those cute little appetizer things they serve us just to get a break from his _voice_ —”  
  
Slowly, the confusion in the King’s face begins to fade into a neutral expression, and his eyes slip closed. But he’s not as still anymore, and eventually his hand turns over to entwine his fingers firmly with Lord Argentum’s as he babbles.

 

* * *

 

An older Dawnguard, one of the originals, told Helios that the King used to be able to hold whole conversations with his Crownsguard, and sometimes even with the Dawnguard at the door.  
  
“It was a distraction,” he said. “Something he could do that didn’t take away from his fight, but let him ignore the worst of it for awhile. Whenever any one of the three were around, he got downright chatty.” The man sighed. “That changed after Lord Amicitia, but it still worked for a while. Now…” He shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head and straightening his sword over it. “Now it’s only shared between the two of ’em, and there’s only so much one man can do.”

 

* * *

 

The slant of the light through the windows slowly lengthens, and the purple of the torches casts a stronger hue as evening stretches on. The conversation—mostly one-sided with a few hesitant responses, though Helios can tell that the King is listening—slowly begins to peter out into silence, as it always does. There's something sacred in it, and every time it happens he tries his best not to breathe too loudly, as though he'll disrupt whatever is passing between the two by doing so. They've always had this, as far as he can tell. Even when it was Lord Amicitia or Lord Scientia, it was the same—a silence where you could almost hear the words passing you by, in a language that no one actually knew and only the four understood. He's sure that whole conversations happen without any Dawnguard's knowledge.  
  
The silence continues for long minutes before it suddenly charges ever so slightly.  
  
Lord Argentum's free hand rises and lays gently across the hilt of the Sword of the Father. His voice is quiet, wavering, and he doesn't look at the King's face. “Are… are you sure you don't want me to—”  
  
“Prompto.” The King’s voice is soft and brittle. “Please don’t tempt me.”  
  
Argentum pulls his hand back, eyes trained firmly on the ground now. “…I know.”  
  
Another few minutes of silence pass before Argentum suddenly looks up, a wide smile on his face.  
  
“I think I’m gonna stay here tonight, Li,” he says cheerfully.  
  
Helios hears it for the dismissal it is. “Very good, my Lord.” He’s not technically supposed to leave the room until his shift is up, but no Dawnguard is going to turn down an order from the last remaining Crownsguard. “Will you be requiring anything?”  
  
Argentum eyes him for a moment. “Just a bit of familiarity would be nice.”  
  
Helios purses his lips.  
  
Argentum sighs like he’s just been told he’s not allowed to play outside on a sunny day. “Or not. You’re too stiff.” He nudges the King, whose glowing eyes open slightly. “Don’t you think he could use some loosening up, Noct?”  
  
King Noctis’ half-lidded stare flicks over to Helios, and he can feel the weight of it like a laser beam down his body. He carefully doesn’t move.  
  
“Yeah,” the King says after a long moment. Helios lets himself swallow as the King’s eyes slip closed again. His head tilts, ever so slightly, towards Lord Argentum, as he speaks again. “You don’t want to disappoint him, trust me.”  
  
“Yes, your Majesty,” Helios says immediately, pulling up into a sharp salute that the King doesn’t see.  
  
“That’s the opposite of what I said.” The words are halting, but the King’s lips tilt up into the tiniest of smiles as his eyes slit open once more.  
  
Helios feels the flush all the way down to his toes as he quickly lets the salute fall. “Uh… y-yes, sir.”  
  
Lord Argentum huffs and waves a hand. “You’re hopeless. All you Dawnguard are, but _you_ in particular, Li.”  
  
“Just doing my job,” Helios throws back impertinently, before catching himself. “…my Lord.”  
  
Argentum eyes him with an eyebrow raised. The tiny smile has stayed on the King’s face even while his head is laid back on the cushion behind him once more.  
  
“Oh, just go, you,” Argentum says finally, flapping his hand. “Begone! Go take some cabbage home to your mother or something.”  
  
Helios fights a smile, his Dawnguard training employed in full to keep his face straight. “Yes, my Lord.” He turns on his heel and makes for the door. He’s reaching out to the handle when Argentum speaks again.  
  
“Oh… and Helios?”  
  
The levity is gone suddenly, and in its place is a strange sort of quiet. Helios looks over his shoulder. The King’s eyes are open again, fully this time, and the eerie purple light freezes him in place. Argentum’s hand is on his forearm, and his eyes are a stormy purple-blue that seems to reflect the King’s light. They make a picture worthy of a painting—the Dawn King, young and unchanging, and his last vassal, wizened beyond his years and somber, frozen in time together.  
  
Lord Argentum’s mouth quirks to one side. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”  
  
And suddenly, he knows what’s happening.  
  
Helios bites the inside of his lip as his chest seizes, because he can’t… he’s not ready for this.  
  
“Yeah… I know,” he says finally, and his voice cracks only a little bit. “Thanks, Uncle Prompto.” Before he can think beyond it, he pulls the door open and steps out into the hallway. Behind him, as it shuts quietly, he hears Lord Argentum’s voice rising excitedly, saying “Did you hear that? The first time he breaks character on the job, and it’s for me! Astrals, Gladio would’ve _killed_ to see it—” and a tiny crackle of air that might have been King Noctis laughing.

 

* * *

 

When the news comes out the next morning, he and his mother are in the kitchen making omelettes. The banner announcing the story scrolls across the screen under a very still video. The Dawn King looks as he always does, eternal on his throne, the sword suspending his life glittering faintly blue in the camera lens and the deep flaming cracks of the battle with the Starscourge creeping almost lazily up past his collar. Beside him on the floor, head resting quietly against his thigh, is Lord Prompto Argentum, eyes closed, silver hair spilling over his face and the hand still tangled with the King’s. You’d almost think he was sleeping.  
  
His mother doesn’t scream. Doesn’t shout. She’s never been the type, not in Helios’ lifetime. Instead, she just sits down quietly on the chair at the table, her coffee cup between her trembling hands, and lays her forehead against her wrists.  
  
“You stupid boy,” she says, with a strange sort of fondness, and then Iris Amicitia closes her eyes and weeps like a child.

 

* * *

 

There’s no funeral.  
  
Like the other two before him, Prompto Argentum passes quietly at the feet of his King, and several hours later simply shatters into blue dust and fades into nothing. He was sixty-two. His name is added beneath Ignis Scientia’s on the Stone of the Lost, and life continues on.  
  
Years pass.  
  
The Dawnguard grows in number—some drawn by the rumours and growing legend, some by the true desire to serve. Eventually, Helios is promoted to Captain, something his Uncle Gladio had claimed was going to happen long before it did. Iris remains outwardly unimpressed, though he catches her smiling at his induction. (“Too much like Gladdy for your own good,” she says quietly, with a bit of nostalgia and the tiniest hint of pride.)  
  
He trains the new recruits. Shares the stories his uncles shared with him. Tries to prepare them for what it’ll be like the first time they step into the throne room.  
  
They’re never prepared.  
  
Even now, as he walks through the door, Helios can feel the… _presence_ that seems to wash over him the moment he enters. There’s a pressure to the air, the feeling of suppressed magic hanging above and around him like a cape. King Noctis’ eyes are shut tight, his body still except for the slowly-changing mark of the Starscourge across his skin. He’s the only one holding it back, now.  
  
There’s no one to share the load anymore.  
  
Occasionally, when there’s no one watching, Helios tries to speak to the King. It’s not professional, he knows—but who’s around to call him on it? Sometimes he shares the stories of his day, or the recipe for the delicious stew his husband made the other night. (Uncle Ignis used to do that, and the King seemed to enjoy it even if he couldn’t eat himself.) The King is the first to hear the news that his adoption papers go through, that he’s going to be a _father_. He shares news of the newest peace treaty with Accordo, and the refugee camps finally being dismantled after decades of service in northern Leide.  
  
Every once in a while, when the silence presses heaviest and he can almost hear the whispers of the Ring shifting through the air, he’ll just stand by the door and say quietly, “We’re with you, Uncle Noct.”  
  
But the King doesn’t open his eyes again.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a Lot Of Ideas for this one, so it's gonna end up being a series. Eventually.


End file.
